


So Heavy

by InnerSpectrum



Series: Mystrade is Our Division Prompts [46]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, Facebook: Mystrade is our Division Fic, Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:42:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerSpectrum/pseuds/InnerSpectrum
Summary: A case brings Greg Lestrade back to London. It's his first time back since he left Mycroft a few months ago. Being back was already hard, and then it gets worse.





	So Heavy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Mystrade is our Division FB Fic Prompts | Heavy
> 
> These last few one-shots have turned into something of a continuing story. While most stand on its own, based on its prompt, if it fits, I will be reordering them around to fit the tale chronologically as needed. This mini series begins at Part 45 with "Out of Time" and continues through here.

Most days Gregory Lestrade enjoyed his new job. It had all the satisfaction of solving crimes and clearing cases as he had working with New Scotland Yard, but those were more from the perspective of after the crime has been committed. Whatever damage was done and he was in it up close personal. Being the lead of the Task Force was a little more behind the desk than he liked, but he had a lot more of the satisfaction of seeing the results of stopping the crime in some and the preventing of more. As exhaustive as those days can be, those were the light days, the good ones.

This had not been one of those days.

The international task force had several cases going on. One had crossed his desk from his erstwhile colleague Detective Inspector Dimmock in London. One of Dimmock’s confidential informants got himself in major trouble at a drug bust and tried to negotiate a deal that included information on a trafficking ring that went from the Middle East through Eastern and Western Europe to the States. It was a ring that catered to the tastes of those who liked them young. Noticeably young. On top of that a recently kidnapped diplomat’s son visiting London was highly feared to be a victim in it.

From the moment he heard about the ten-year-old, things began to weigh heavy on Greg. His bosses requested that he personally go as it was London, his own hometown. Two of his team members, Lt. Luis Reyes and Alphonse Müller had come with him. Thus, his feet touched on London soil for the first time since he had left two months ago.

According to the manifest on record, the shipping container was scheduled to ship to elsewhere two days ago but never left London. Somehow a different container was “accidentally” shipped. It was winter. The United Kingdom was going through an unusually wicked cold snap even by their standards. The container was had been at the dock for three days by best records. It was called in when a worker noticed it was the only container not thickly covered in snow that had fallen over night. The trail that led them to the docks had a high probability the occupants of the container were victims of the ring and may have included the missing child.

It had.

Someone in the freezing container had lit a fire to stay warm. Carbon monoxide poisoning had taken the lives of some, including the boy. That was the only good news. Something went horribly wrong and the charred remains of several were also found in the container. The bodies and container had slowly grown cold again as the flames died out.

Lestrade was _done_.

Done with the horrible trafficking case.

Done with being back in London.

And now this? He knew the heaviness in his heart had him on an increasingly short tether.

He knew he needed to get out of London before he snapped.

_Christ, what the fuck else can happen?_

As soon as his part of the paperwork was done he left Alphonse to handle what remained with DI Dimmock. Since Müller was already on this side of the ocean, it was perfect for him to grab a few extra days and head home to Germany for the holidays.

“You don’t want to see any of your people while you’re here? It’s the holidays, man.” Reyes had asked him as they headed for Heathrow to go back to New York City.

“No. I’ll be back just before the big day. No need.” He lied.

Greg had not told anyone he was coming, because he had no intention of seeing anyone other than Dimmock. Not even his own family. He could not. He had asked Dimmock not to tell anyone he was there, not even Sally Donovan. It was all still too new.

He was not ready.

One of the perks of being called in personally was that they had a use of a private jet for this. Greg was familiar with the way to the private hangars, having walked this way many times before. Because it was a familiar path, he had not thought twice about it when he initially saw the private jet two gates over. Then he spotted the man that walked down the mobile stairs.

_Oh my god, no! No! NO!_

_I just had to tempt Fate and ask “what else”…didn’t I?_

_Mycroft…_

Greg has lived in New York City for two months. That meant he had not lain eyes on his ex-lover in nearly four months. It mattered not. Greg has spent nearly a decade and a half knowing the man, over a decade loving him. He would know the stride of that long elegant form anywhere. This was The Iceman in purest form. Greg could not help his tremulous smile. For whatever reason, it seemed he was one of the very few people who were unfazed by Mycroft’s icy death glare. It was a glare that gave the man his pseudonym as it made most of the people who buzzed around him scatter.

Greg groaned hoarsely at sight of them.

_God, he’s beautiful._

Greg watched as the familiar gloved fingers buttoned a coat against the elements with one hand, the ever-present umbrella dangled from his wrist, as he held a mobile to his ear with the other. Even from a distance, the sharp features of Mycroft’s face were a study in concentration as he conversed with whomever on the phone. Greg knew it was something serious and Mycroft was not happy about whatever it was as his PA Anthea typed relentlessly on her mobile barely keeping pace with Mycroft’s long legs.

Greg remembered when Mycroft's long pale legs were last wrapped around him. Those long legs that had pulled Greg in closer; pulled him in deeper, the heavy weight of _him_ in Greg’s hand as they brought each other to completion.

_Neither of us had any idea that it would be the last time… _

An intense longing stirred within his abdomen and surged to his chest to squeeze at his heart.

_No... Don’t..._

He begged his heart, his hand naturally cupping as it took a path down Memory Lane he was not prepared to travel.

“Lestrade…?” Greg had not realized his moan was audible or that he had stopped until had Reyes touched him.

“Oh… Fuck.”

He knew then that Reyes had spotted Mycroft as well.

Greg found his way blocked by Luis Reyes’ wiry frame. Greg was not aware of having moved towards the man, but now that he had started...

“Get out of my way, Luis.”

“Lestrade, no. Don’t do this.” Reyes held his coat sleeve.

Greg snatched his arm away, his feet taking him towards Mycroft.

“He’s right there, Luis. I… I want need… I…” He felt as though he would buckle under the pressure of the longing as he warred with himself.

“Need what, Greg? Your heart shredded more?” Luis had not let go.

Greg pushed away. “You don’t know…”

“I know Mycroft Holmes hurt you Lestrade.” Reyes said harshly, the grip that grabbed his arm now was unrelenting.

“The others of our team may not know, G, but _I know_. I know what you were like before this…” Luis gestured to the totality of Greg before him with his other hand, “…happened. Before this shell of who you used to be fled to New York.”

Greg only half listened. He could still see Mycroft's head as he and Anthea reached their sedan. He knew they were exchanging the codes of the day with the driver. He knew if he ran towards them he would be seen before Mycroft got in the car.

_Mycroft…_

“You don’t know shite, Luis!”gritted between his teeth.

Reyes was not a large man. Lestrade had a few centimeters and a stone on him. Still, the man was a solid wall Greg could not get past without hurting him.

Greg felt his fist forming. Luis Reyes noticed as well.

“Oh? Now you want to swing on me? You want to go to him so badly? I’ll tell you what you motherfucking bastard– I’ll let you!” Reyes snarled in his face, still the grip on Greg’s arm had not lessened. “But I swear to fucking God, I’ll fucking let you drown in the misery of what he’ll do to your heart when you return even more broken than you are if you go back to him now! Your head has barely cleared the top of that pit of misery you’re still in because of him. Don’t let him drag you back down into it. Do you see him tearing himself up over you? Huh?”

Greg knew no one other than those closest to Mycroft would ever know whether Mycroft Holmes was torn up. Mycroft was called the Iceman for a reason.

_I just need to get close enough to see him clearly and I would know._

“Fucking look at yourself, Gregory!”

It was the use of full first name that brought him up short. Reyes never said his full name, not even in introductions. He was always _Lestrade_ or _Greg_ and most often just _G_, but not Gregory. Greg knew Lt. Luis Reyes meant every word.

“Luis, please…” Greg could not have cared less about the desperation he heard in his voice. He was on the verge of begging, even as he watched Mycroft’s long form fold itself to climb into the sedan behind Anthea.

“I want him...” he said feebly.

_Yell for him. He’ll hear you…_

Greg could not make himself do it.

Slowly, he relaxed his fists.

“He doesn’t deserve you, G.” Luis’ voice had gentled as he sensed the fight had gone out of Greg.

“I need him...” Greg whispered.

“Yet you got on a plane and crossed an ocean to get away from him.” Luis’ voice and his grip gentled, “You want him. You’re dying inside for him right now because you see him, but you don’t need him, Greg. There’s a difference.”

A part of Greg knew Luis was right. The part that would not run to Mycroft, that would not yell for him. He knew would not be able to handle being hurt again.

_No, not hurt again for that would imply that I had stopped. _

He took a breath and then another through a constricted throat and tightened lungs as he watched the black sedan as it drove away.

_So close and yet so very far. _

“It’s so heavy, Luis. I don’t know…”

“Gregory, you do know…”

With a curt nod Reyes let him go entirely. Greg felt as though he could barely pick his feet from the ground as he trudged towards their plane.

Greg knew that someday he will thank Luis Reyes for this moment, but as the weight of the day sat even more heavy upon his heart, he knew that day would not be today.

“Get me the fuck out of here, Reyes.”


End file.
